


Conversations With Children: the Battle of Hogwarts

by Zaivex



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-War, anniversary of the battle of hogwarts, father/son bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 06:21:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5698231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaivex/pseuds/Zaivex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every year at the beginning of May, Albus Potter's family goes to the Burrow and everyone sends each other owls and generally seems to be upset. Grandma Weasley cries, Uncle George won't talk to anyone, and his parents hug and whisper to each other much more than usual. A young Albus wonders why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conversations With Children: the Battle of Hogwarts

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this for the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts a few years ago but never got around to publishing it on here. However, an unedited version of this is on Fanfiction.net under the same pen name, if you think you have read it before. Please tell me if you find any spelling or grammar mistakes, and enjoy!

“Dad, why is everyone always so sad around this time of year?”

Harry sighed and looked at his youngest son. At nine years old, Albus Potter was far more inquisitive and perceptive than his older brother had ever been. Harry had known it was only a matter of time before the quiet boy picked up on the family’s somber tone around the beginning of May. James, despite almost being finished with his first year of Hogwarts, had not come to Harry or Ginny with questions about the Second Wizarding War. This was not surprising to the two, however, seeing as the boy more likely than not slept through his History of Magic class. Harry supposed that Binns could make even Voldemort’s rise and defeat seem boring; he certainly portrayed goblin revolutions as such. James had always been more oblivious than his brother, though. It would not be like him to notice the subtle change in behavior in his family, especially now that he was at Hogwarts at this time of year. Harry’s firstborn preferred conversations about Quidditch or pranking to those about feelings or history.

And that was what it was, Harry mused, history. It had been seventeen years since the Battle of Hogwarts and the death of so many dear friends, people Harry had come to think of as family. Seventeen years and everyone was still feeling their absence. Harry looked down to see his son staring at him, waiting patiently for an answer. He sighed again and sat down in the armchair in front of the fireplace, pulling Albus onto his lap.

“What have you noticed?” He asked the small boy, knowing how observant his son could be and wanting to know how much he should explain.

“Well none of the adults smile when they think no one is looking and everyone mopes about. You and Mum hug more, and last year I heard Grandma Weasley say that Uncle George locks himself in his room and refuses to talk to anyone.” Albus paused for a moment to rearrange himself on his dad’s lap, and then continued. “Grandpa Weasley sits in his chair staring at old photographs then makes up some weird response when we ask him about it. No one is ever happy.”

Harry marveled internally at how much Albus had picked up; everyone tried their hardest not to let the children see how distraught they were. He regarded his son for a minute before starting.

“I was going to wait until you were older to tell you about this, but I recon you're old enough now. When I was younger, a little younger than our Teddy is now, the war against Voldemort was at its peak. You remember who Voldemort is, what I told you about him?”

Albus nodded. “He was the horrible man that wanted some wizards and witches like Aunt Hermione to suffer because they were different.”

“Right, him. Well this is skipping to the end, but just before his defeat, there was a fight now known as the Battle of Hogwarts. You’ll learn more about it in school, I'm sure. The battle…”

To Albus’ concern, his dad’s voice cracked and he trailed off, staring at something in the distance the boy suspected no one else could see.

“You don’t have to talk about this,” Albus told his dad quickly, looking at him with increasing worry.

Harry hurried to assure his son that it was fine; he was just reliving some painful memories and needed a minute. Albus, concerned about his dad but curious to hear what he would say if he was willing, nodded and stayed silent.  After a while, Harry started again.

“Voldemort was defeated in the Battle of Hogwarts, but before his demise—that means his end—his army of death eaters stormed the castle looking for… well, looking for me.” Harry hesitated but then plunged on. “Voldemort wanted me dead, see, and he didn’t care who got in his way while looking for me—he killed anyone and everyone that stood against him. He… He was a horrible man, Al. A horrible man.”

Albus was staring up at his dad with wide eyes, amazed at how much he was telling him. His dad had never talked this much about the war before.

  “Many of our friends died in that battle,” Harry continued. “Teddy’s Mum and Dad, my good friends were killed. Your Uncle George… George used to have a twin, did you know that? His name was Fred, and they did everything together.”

“Fred like our Fred?” Albus asked.

“Yes, like our Fred. Our Fred is actually Fred II; he was named after George’s twin. Those two loved pranking and getting into trouble, not unlike Fred and James. They knew Hogwarts inside and out, all the secret passageways, all the hidden rooms. They were best friends. Fred died in the battle too. He-” Harry’s voice broke again.

Albus silently hugged his dad, noticing in alarm that even as Harry’s arms encircled him, he could feel the top of his head become wet. He had only seen his dad cry once, when Mum had gotten into a bad broom accident and they had just been told that she would make a full recovery. Those had been tears of relief, and James and Albus had cried with him. This was worse, somehow.

“Sorry Al,” Harry said with a watery chuckle, ruffling his son’s hair. “Didn’t mean to get you all wet.”

Albus smiled up at him shyly. He didn’t know what to say. What were you supposed to say when your dad cries on you? Harry wiped his eyes and cleared his throat.

“So that’s why everyone’s sad, bud. We lost a lot of people we love a while ago on this day, and it isn’t the same without them.” He gave Albus a sad smile and another hug. “But we’re okay. Your Mum is still here, and now I have you and James and Lily and Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione and Grandma and Grandpa Weasley and our whole family. What more could I want?” He nudged Albus until the boy giggled, pushing back on his dad.

“I love you buddy,” Harry told him seriously, ruffling his hair.

“I love you too dad,” Albus mumbled, burying his head in Harry’s shirt in an effort to remove his hand.

They heard a distant crash and Lily’s outraged bellow and they turned to each other, both holding back laughter.

 “Why don’t you go and find out whatever your sister has destroyed now? If you hurry you might be able to prevent her from knocking down the house,” Harry suggested, giving Albus’ hair one last tousle.

Albus gave his dad a quick hug and jumped off his lap, running from the room. When he reached the door, he turned back to face Harry.

“Thanks, Dad,” he said quietly with a small smile.

Harry waved to his son and watched him run out of the room in search of Lily, and then Harry was left sitting in his armchair, remembering all those who had died all those years ago with a sad smile on his face.


End file.
